Labouring

Weekend spent finally packing Lorraine up. On Saturday, L and I moved three car loads full of bricks and paving slabs from her garden into mine, to replace my rotten decking. Exhausting carrying them up a flight of stairs and along the Twitten. Proper labouring work, like I used to do when I was a young Marxist poet.

Noticed the first daffodil in my front garden. Some years they have come out in January.

Pat and Maureen arrived in the afternoon, and we spent our time packing up at Lorraine's house. Late in the evening we went off to Glenda's 70s party in a pub in Worthing. I was dressed in shabbyish work clothes and everyone else in fancy dress. Alarmingly, Richard, young Mark's dad who was wearing a false afro and big flares and a tank top, and holding two bacardi and cokes, threatened to take me out for a real drink as I left.

Maureen making Lorraine and I laugh walking back to the car explaining that she liked to keep up with the world by reading the signs on vans, to see what people did.

All home to Lorraine's house, to sleep like a baby.